The Blue Sapphire

by D. E. Stevenson

  ‘If I were not here you would throw that into the fire, wouldn’t you?’ she exclaimed.

  He started and looked up like a guilty child. ‘Well, I can’t deny it,’ he replied ruefully. ‘I’m sick and tired of steamed fish. It’s all I can do to swallow it—and that’s the truth, as Maggie would say. If you’d just shut your eyes for a minute I’d be grateful. Maggie would be grieved if she saw it lying on my plate.’

  Julia was of the opinion that if Uncle Randal were sick and tired of steamed fish it was unlikely to do him any good, so she shut her eyes as requested, but she could not shut her ears . . . she heard the fire make a sizzling noise.

  ‘That’s fine,’ declared Uncle Randal. ‘Maggie will be pleased.’

  ‘But I’m not pleased,’ Julia told him. ‘If you can’t bear the sight of steamed fish it isn’t the right kind of food for you.’

  There was silence for a few moments and then they began to talk of other matters. Julia told him that she had been given permission to ‘say Maggie,’ and asked if she might ‘say Uncle Ran, like Neil.’

  ‘Yes, why not?’ replied Uncle Randal. ‘It’s a nice wee name and very suitable.’

  ‘Suitable?’

  Uncle Randal chuckled. ‘Because Uncle ran,’ he explained. ‘Long, long ago Uncle could run with the best of them. You wouldn’t think it now to see him creeping about like an elderly snail . . . but it’s true. Uncle ran with the Edinburgh Harriers, and many a good time he had and many good friends he made! He’ll not forget those days; he often thinks of them. Some of the friends are gone now, but there are still some left; there’s Andy Hepburn and Henry Baird . . . but what’s the use of telling you a string of names? There’s not much interest in that.’

  ‘Tell me about the good times,’ suggested Julia.

  Uncle Randal did not need much pressing; he began to tell her about some of the cross-country runs and the amusing things that had happened, and his recollections were so interesting that they lasted until Maggie came to fetch him to bed.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The following morning when Maggie appeared as usual with Julia’s breakfast there was a large bulky letter upon the tray.

  ‘Oh, a letter!’ exclaimed Julia.

  ‘Postie has just been,’ said Maggie. She arranged the tray as usual and went away.

  Meanwhile Julia had discovered that the letter was from Stephen; it had been sent to May Martineau’s and redirected to The Square House. She opened it as she sipped her orange juice, and saw it was a very long letter and contained several sheets of typescript on very thin paper. She read the letter first:

  Gemscoombe

  My dear Julia,

  It was good of you to write and let me know you were going to Scotland, but it was a very short letter and you did not give me your address. I was waiting to hear from you again but I expect you have been too busy to write letters, so I am sending this to Miss Martineau’s, marked ‘please forward.’ I feel inclined to say—like the Irishman—‘Let me know if you don’t get this’ but, being an ordinary common or garden Englishman, I shall just say, ‘Let me know if you do’! I hope your uncle is better—or at least improving. From what you said in your letter I am afraid he must be seriously ill.

  You remember I told you I had to go to that meeting of the directors of Coribunda? It was just as bad as I expected if not worse. However, I have done what I believed to be my duty and warned them of the difficulties that lie ahead. I enclose a copy of the statement which I gave the directors to digest at their leisure. I did not intend to write it but Father advised me to do so and helped me to compose it. I don’t know whether it will interest you—if not, just tear it up—no need to return it. Mother made me send it to you, she said you would like to read it. She also said I was to give you her love. I dare say this seems funny to you but of course I have told her a lot about you—I told her about how we met and she took it in her stride! I hope you don’t mind my having told her.

  Oh, Julia, I wish you were here instead of hundreds of miles away in Scotland! It is such lovely weather, mild and balmy with a little breeze off the sea, and the sunshine is kind. Perhaps you will think ‘kind’ is a strange word to use of sunshine but I can’t think of a better one. In Africa the sunshine is cruel and glaring and dries you up and hurts your eyes. Yesterday morning I woke early and went down to bathe before breakfast. There is a path down the cliff and a little sandy bay and a rock from which you can dive into deep clear water. I was out of practice so I went in with a splash and came up gasping. It was a good deal colder than I expected—I suppose it feels colder because I was out in Africa for so long—all the same I enjoyed it and felt warm and tingly afterwards and braced up for the day’s work.

  If you think I am having an idle holiday you couldn’t be more wrong! The builder has come at last and is re-slating the roof. In my opinion he is a plausible rascal so it is a good thing I am here to keep an eye on him and see what he is doing. This old house began life as a small inn, frequented by smugglers, and has been enlarged and added to so often that the roof is very strange indeed. There are ups and downs and flat places and little gables in unexpected corners and several unnecessary chimneys. I mean there are no fireplaces in the house connected with them. Parts of the roof are perfectly sound and other parts exceedingly old and rotten. When I was a boy I loved crawling about on the roof, it was a wonderful place to play, but now I am not enjoying it at all. However, it must be done, and of course it is quite impossible for Father, so I am afraid it looks as if I shall be stuck down here for ten days at least. After that I shall try to run up to Town for a long week-end and shall look forward to seeing you. Perhaps we could have another celebration. If we can’t think of anything else to celebrate we could celebrate your return from Scotland! Our last celebration was great. I often chuckle to myself when I think of that terribly grand commissionaire who looked as if he had been melted and poured into his uniform and how we nearly disgraced ourselves by laughing at the wrong moment—and I often think about the evening when we walked round Piccadilly Circus and visited the lions in Trafalgar Square and then on to Westminster Bridge and heard Big Ben strike eleven. It was kind of you to enjoy it with me, Julia, but I am sure you understood. I had been living for so long in a solitary spot, miles from civilisation, that it was a wonderful experience to walk in London, jostled by the crowd, with a girl on my arm. When I told Mother about it she said it was very inconsiderate of me to make you walk so far in your evening shoes, but you were not wearing evening shoes—they were sensible shoes. I looked at your shoes before I suggested we should walk. I am telling you this because Mother was so horrified and I should not like you to think I had been inconsiderate.

  My parents are very keen for me to stay at home for the whole summer and I have agreed. I have written to the manager of the Dickenson Mine to ask for an extension of my leave. I expect he will grant it, because he is a decent chap, but if not it will be quite easy for me to get another post. Mining engineers don’t grow on blackberry bushes! At any rate I must stay here for the summer. You see there is so much to be done. Not only the house but the whole estate has been neglected for years because there was no money for repairs. Now, thanks to the sapphire, we can put everything in proper order. How amazing it is! If I had not gone back and found the old chap none of this would have happened. I had my foot in the stirrup! If I had mounted and ridden away I should never have found you sitting on that seat in Kensington Gardens. I feel quite frightened when I think about it.

  Please write and tell me how you are and what you are doing. I have never been to Scotland so I can’t imagine you at all. Just a short letter will do if you are too busy to write a long one.

  YOURS EVER,

  Stephen

  *

  2

  Julia read the letter with pleasure; it was a nice friendly letter and very interesting indeed. Of course Stephen believed her to be engaged to Morland and she did not intend to undeceive him—not yet. There were va
rious reasons for this decision: to begin with, it was less than a week since her engagement had been broken off. It felt a great deal longer, but that was because so much had happened and because Julia was so far away from her previous life, not only far away in a geographical sense but also in her own private feelings. She had expected that she would continue to think of Morland and to miss him, but for the last few days she had not thought of him at all. Her new friends and her new experiences had filled her life completely. Now that she thought of Morland and of all the months when they had seen each other nearly every day she felt ashamed of being so—yes, so fickle, thought Julia. It really was horrid of her! However, perhaps it was just as well, because she and Morland were quite unsuited to each other—it was a good thing that they had made the discovery in time—Morland would find a girl who would say ‘Yes, dear’ on every possible occasion and they would be perfectly happy together. Meanwhile Julia must think of Uncle Randal and of how she could persuade him to have another opinion. She had begun her campaign last night; she did not think her arguments had made much impression upon him but she must go on trying . . . and she would go on trying, for she was now convinced that Dr. Cairn was no use at all. He might be ‘a nice kind creature,’ but what use was a doctor who could not see further than the end of his own nose?

  Having made up her mind that she must continue her campaign Julia realised that it was necessary for her to remain indefinitely at Leddiesford. Whether or not she were successful it would be impossible for her to walk out and leave Uncle Randal to his fate. Neil had been right in saying that she had an important job here; certainly it was a great deal more important than selling hats. This meant she must write to May at once and also to Madame Claire and explain the whole situation. She must do that to-day. And she would write to Stephen—quite a short letter would do—telling him about Uncle Randal’s illness, which was even more serious than she had expected, and saying that he might have to undergo an operation. She would not mention Morland at all; that was the best way.

  Stephen’s letter was lying on the tray, so she took it up and read it again more carefully. Yes, it was a kind friendly letter and quite sensible—until the very end. The end was not quite so sensible. Of course lots of people signed themselves ‘yours ever’; it was the sort of thing to write when you could not make up your mind how to end. You thought of various endings and dismissed them as being too affectionate or, alternatively, too stiff. Then you just dashed off ‘yours ever’ without meaning it in the very least (Julia had done this herself to several of her friends without having the slightest intention of remaining theirs for ever); but if you dashed it off like that, was it likely you would inscribe the words in large roman capitals?

  No, it was not. So it really was rather naughty of Stephen (when he believed her to be engaged to be married to another man). It was rather naughty, but rather nice too, thought Julia smiling to herself. At any rate it showed that although she was ‘hundreds of miles away in Scotland’ he had not forgotten her.

  Turning back to Stephen’s description of Gemscoombe, Julia reread the bit about the roof. ‘Parts of the roof are perfectly sound and other parts exceedingly old and rotten.’ It sounded frightfully dangerous, thought Julia frowning. How awful if poor Stephen fell through one of those horrible rotten parts and broke his leg or something! She decided to tell him in her letter that he must be very careful.

  All this time Julia had been stowing away her breakfast and had now reached the stage of scones and honey. It crossed her mind that if she stayed here long she would put on a lot of weight; however, it could not be helped. The air of Leddiesford made her hungry and Maggie Walker’s scones were delicious.

  Julia took up the thin sheets of typescript, and unfolding them carefully began to read Stephen’s statement to the Directors of the Coribunda Sapphire Company, which ran as follows:

  Gemscoombe,

  Devonshire

  The Coribunda Sapphire Co.

  Dear Sirs,

  I understand that you wish me to give you my advice about reopening the workings of the Coribunda mine. It is difficult for me to do this as there are so many factors to be taken into consideration, so perhaps the best plan is for me to tell you of my own experiences in the district and leave you to consider the matter at leisure. I am, as you are aware, assistant manager of the Dickenson Diamond Mine situated not far from Kimberley. About this time last year I was given ten days’ leave of absence and, as it was too short a holiday to come home, I decided to go on safari with a friend, James Rafferty, a mining engineer like myself. We took some ponies and half a dozen boys and set out to visit the Coribunda Sapphire workings which we knew to have been abandoned some years previously. We are both interested in corundum (i.e. rubies and sapphires), and as we were aware that good specimens of sapphire had been found at Coribunda we wondered why the workings had been discontinued. We did not hurry and it took us several days to reach the district. We made our camp about fifteen miles short of our objective, where there was a good water supply, and the following morning James Rafferty and I rode over to Coribunda leaving the boys in camp. When we arrived at the workings we found the huts and equipment were all falling to pieces; the whole place looked derelict, but it interested us greatly because it seemed to us a most promising situation for sapphires. The workings had taken place in the side of a small kopje of igneous rock, we found gneiss and granite and qualities of quartz sand. There was an auriferous drift such as is found in the gold fields of Victoria. No doubt you are aware that drifts of this nature yield very fine sapphires in Australia, so it is reasonable to suppose that this type of geological formation should yield good sapphires in Africa.

  Perhaps I should point out that corundum is not found in deep mines—like gold and diamonds—but in crystalline rocks which lie nearer the surface, frequently in beds of rivers and basaltic detritus.

  At Coribunda numerous shallow tunnels had been bored in the hill, but it was difficult to explore them because the roof had not been shored up properly and had fallen in. For this reason we could not determine their extent. At one place there was a blue vein in the roof which looked very promising indeed, but it would have been extremely dangerous to touch it without proper equipment as the roof might have fallen in and buried us alive. We spent some time looking about but could do nothing useful.

  I am aware that this information may be redundant as you have had the workings surveyed by an expert and have had his report. My object is merely to inform you of the experiences of my friend James Rafferty and myself.

  All this is very hopeful but I feel I should not be doing my duty if I did not show you the reverse side of the picture. I have said that the huts and equipment were falling to pieces, so you will realise that new huts would have to be erected and new equipment purchased and everything would have to be brought to the site. Coribunda is one of the wildest and most desolate spots in Africa and would, in my opinion, be a miserable place to live. One cannot help wondering whether it would be possible to get a good manager to live there and settle down. It would be necessary to have an assistant manager and at least two overseers to prevent pilfering. Suitable accommodation would have to be built for them and a small hospital to deal with injuries, etc. This would cost a great deal of money.

  There is another snag, even more formidable. When we were coming away from the Coribunda workings we discovered an old native dying of thirst and starvation. He told us he had been employed in the workings and was sure there were sapphires to be found, but he also told us that he and his fellow workers had deserted the place because it was haunted by evil spirits. To anyone not acquainted with the place and having no experience of the weird and wonderful ‘magic’ practised by African witch-doctors the idea may seem ludicrous, but to those who have witnessed some of their ‘magic’ it does not seem ludicrous at all. For instance I have seen a man pine away to a shadow and lie down and die for no reason except that a witch-doctor, more than fifty miles away, had willed his death.
I have seen other things happen, equally mysterious and inexplicable. But whether or not we believe in African magic is not the point. The point is that the natives believe in it. The native workers at Coribunda believed the place to be haunted by evil spirits so they deserted in a body. Rumours get about like wildfire, and once a place has a bad name—in this case the reputation of being haunted—it is difficult to recruit suitable workers and perhaps even more difficult to keep them. You could get riff-raff of course, but when you are searching for precious stones you want a respectable team of workers.

  I should like to make it clear that it does not matter to me personally whether or not you decide to resume workings at Coribunda. I have no interest in it financially—or otherwise. You asked for my advice. I believe there are good sapphires at Coribunda but I feel certain that it will be difficult and costly to get them out.

  Yours faithfully,

  Stephen Brett

  The statement was extremely interesting, and in Julia’s opinion it was admirably clear and well thought out. She had known quite a lot before, but this description seemed to bring it all into focus. She could almost see the tumbledown buildings and the tunnels in the hill. What would the directors do, she wondered. Would they go on with the project or not? She hoped they would. It was sad to think of hundreds of sapphires waiting to be found and cut and polished into beautiful, shining, sparkling gems.

  *

  3

  Julia was still thinking about the sapphires when Maggie came in for the breakfast-tray, but before removing it she stood at the end of the bed and delivered a message: